


Maybe Tomorrow

by wyn_lionheart



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Christmas, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Healing, M/M, Roy Harper - Freeform, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, and an amalgamation of different dc medias, eventual better tagging, i don't know if dick and roy had a thing yet i will see where the story goes, i started to write this for my friend last winter, it might change - Freeform, tags will be finalized when i'm done, things might change this is a work in progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyn_lionheart/pseuds/wyn_lionheart
Summary: In the long run, his scars are the only things that hang around. Or, to be more accurate, they are the only intimate things he can't push away.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [refusals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/refusals/gifts).



_**Zzzt! Zzzt!** _

He reaches into his hoodie pocket and rejects the call. Waits until his lungs start to plead before he releases himself, curling up like dragon smoke uncloaked by the pinprick night.

There is no starlight above, not from where he rests on a pauper’s bed of woven fingers and gargoyle stone. The bulbs along the street, however, blink and glow. Candy red, and laser green, and that type of clear bulb that cuts behind the top of your eye and lances your brain every other blink or so…if you stare at it. He breathes deep, wonders if he recaptures any of him from before, or if he’s already dissipated among the clouds smothering stars.

There’s a tree, too, tressed in a puddle of curb slush, brittle and bled dry from its life as an erected commodity the day after Thanksgiving, with silver and gold strands still wrapped around its brittle fingertips. Watering it, then or now, wouldn’t have done much good in long run but delay the _damned if you do_. The lights sparkle against it while doors revolve empty hands into arms of wrapped boxes and bags. Bells chime, doors close, people chatter and curse as tires spin in grainy snow. People look down in an attempt to deter the wind, grateful to have an excuse to look at their feet.

 _“They’re already going home with you, you know,” his friend had said, one night, after Roy had distracted himself into taking another tumble. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re great feet and all, but just_ look _at this_ night _,” he shook his head, a chuckle dying on his lips, taking his smile with it, “I...won’t let you fall, okay?” Roy watched him somersault into shadow and wind.  He pulled on his sleeves, stood on shaky knees. He wasn’t worried about his feet, or anyone else’s fear of failure (he was an asshole like that). But meeting Dick’s eyes? That was another thing._

_**Zzzt! Zzzzzt!**  _

He rejects the call. One moment becomes another. And then it’s just him. Still. Jumping lights to flat wires. Garlands to webs. Alone with the curb-tree. The curb-tree and the nagging wind.


	2. Chapter 2: Actually just a quick message to those who have read.

My computer died, and took my story with it. I burnt out a bit, but I am working on it again, along with some other stuff. Thank you for reading, and I am sorry for the delay. There might be mild changes, but I hope you still enjoy it of you decide to stick around.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is several months late and it is unfinished. If I didn't post anything, I'd keep changing it until I destroyed it. I hope it doesn't disappoint in the long run. I love you. Happy (insert holiday of choosing)!


End file.
